


Never Been Kissed

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Male Slash, Stucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24964195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: High school was a long time ago and neither Steve nor Bucky are the same people. Can they get past years of hurt and hatred to start fresh?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	1. One

The guy came in three, sometimes four times a week, sat at the end of the bar, and nursed a couple of beers for an hour or two, watching the game on the big screen. He didn’t really talk to anybody but Sam, and that was usually just to place his order, and he always left a generous tip.

Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, he knew him.

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky said, nudging his bartender. “Do you know that guy?”

Sam shot a look down at the end of the bar. “Name’s Steve. He’s a good guy. Yankee fan, but who can fault him for that? Why? You looking for a date?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Sam was always and forever trying to set him up. He claimed it was what best friends did, but he was relentless and quite frankly, Bucky wasn’t interested in a setup. He believed that love would find him naturally. Besides, he didn’t have time for a relationship, not when he was running the bar and trying to look after Becca.

“Just asking,” Sam joked. “But if you ever want an intro -”

“Can it, Sam,” Bucky growled. “I’m good.”

Except, he wasn’t good. He couldn’t stop thinking about the guy at the end of the bar - Steve - and honestly, it was driving him crazy. Maybe he’d have to do something about it.

* * *

Steve didn’t know why he kept going into Bucky’s bar. He had everything he needed, which honestly was a big fat nothing. It was obvious Bucky wasn’t the same person he’d been back in high school. Maybe he enjoyed torturing himself, dredging up the memories he’d tried so hard to forget. Maybe he was hoping Bucky would recognize him, fall to his knees, and apologize. Or maybe, that crush he’d had on the former jock turned bar owner hadn’t gone away even after eight years.

He suspected it was the latter.

“Can I get you another beer?” Bucky interrupted his musings.

Speak of the devil.

“Uh, no...I’m, uh, I’m good,” he stammered.

Eight years and Bucky standing in front of him still made him freeze up, made him stammer like the terrified high school sophomore he’d been the last time he saw James Buchanan Barnes. So much had changed since then and he still felt like that skinny, asthmatic kid that had been bullied for years.

“This is going to sound lame, and I swear that this isn’t a pick-up line, but do we know each other?” Bucky asked. “It’s been driving me crazy for weeks and I just had to ask.”

Steve’s heart seemed to stutter to a stop before restarting, racing at a maniacal pace. “Um, maybe,” Steve shrugged.

“Are you from here? Brooklyn, I mean?”

Before Steve could answer, Sam opened the door behind the bar and peered out.

“Buck! Phone! It’s Becca. I think you better talk to her.”

“Excuse me.” Bucky dropped the rag in his hand on the counter and jogged the length of the bar. He said something to Sam that Bucky couldn’t hear, then he pushed past him, the door swinging closed behind him.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, it’s just Bucky’s younger sister. She’s a good kid, but she’s had some issues at college. It’s just her and Bucky, so he takes on a lot.” Sam picked up the rag Bucky had discarded. “You want another beer?”

“No, thanks, Sam. I should probably go.” He pulled his wallet out and dropped a twenty on the bar. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Mets are playing the Yankees, right?”

Sam smiled widely. “Yeah, it should be a good game.”

Steve was all the way across the bar with his hand on the door when Sam called after him.

“Hey, Steve? You got a significant other by any chance?”

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “Nah,” he replied. “I am one hundred percent single. Have been, well, forever.”

“Never been kissed, huh?” Sam teased.

“You might say that,” he laughed. “See you tomorrow, Sam.” He hurried out the door before Sam could ask him anything else. Or before he accidentally revealed that he hadn’t been kissed, thanks to his long-standing crush on the owner of the bar.

* * *

_ Steve stepped behind the door to his locker in a futile attempt to make himself invisible. If he could just get dressed and get out of the locker room, he might get through the day without anybody saying or doing anything to him. _

_ The thick metal door bounced off of his forehead, startling him. He fell back a step, his back hitting the lockers behind him. He grabbed his locker to steady himself, a startled shout leaving him when the door slammed closed on his fingers. _

_ “Oh, sorry Rogers,” Brock Rumlow laughed. “I didn’t see your skinny ass behind the door.” _

_ Steve tried to ignore him, but his shouting and Brock’s laughter had drawn a crowd, which of course, always made Brock worse. He loved an audience. At the back of the crowd, Steve could see Bucky, laughing along with everyone else, and that hurt more than anything. Steve had thought they were friends; Bucky had been one of the few people that had been nice to him since he’d started school. It looked like he was wrong about that, too. _

_ Brock grabbed Steve by the arm and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground, his lip bleeding, his head pounding. _

_ “You look good on the floor, Rogers. Stay there like the sick dog that you are.” Brock puffed his chest out and walked away, the crowd of upperclassmen following him, their laughter ringing in Steve’s ears. _

Steve ran harder, his feet pounding the pavement, the sweat dripping down his back, pooling at his waistband. He concentrated on breathing, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, don’t let it get out of control, don’t let it take you over. Nice, deep breaths.

High school had been a horror show for him. He’d been sickly, skinny, and asthmatic, a hundred pounds soaking wet, and that was with his clothes on. After his father died, his mother, Sarah, had done her best to keep him at the private school he’d gone to since he was a child, but by the end of his freshman year, she couldn’t afford it anymore. He’d transferred to public school at the beginning of his sophomore year. And even though he’d grown up in Brooklyn, lived there his entire life, he didn’t know anyone. When you were as sickly as he’d been as a kid, you didn’t get out of the house much and the private school isolated him even more. He’d been a stranger to everyone, including the people who lived on the same street that he did.

All of that had made him an easy target. Brock Rumlow, star athlete and the biggest jerk Steve had ever met, had singled him out early in the school year and he’d spent the next two years making Steve’s life miserable. Brock’s friends did as well, though to a lesser degree. Brock was always the ringleader and Steve suspected that his friends followed along so as not to draw Brock’s ire.

Those friends included Bucky.

Steve had hoped Bucky would be different. They lived around the corner from each other and their mothers were acquaintances. They’d been forced together on and off for years when their mothers got together for an afternoon and they’d formed a tenuous friendship. But once Brock had Steve in his sights, Bucky had gone out of his way to avoid him, conveniently forgetting that they even knew each other. Unfortunately, by then Steve had a full-blown crush on the guy, so the rejection had hurt even more.

After Brock and his friends - all a year older than Steve - had graduated, life had gotten easier. By the end of his senior year, Steve had grown a couple of inches and he’d put on weight. He’d gone to college on the other side of the country, started working out, he’d even joined the swim team. A year into school, he’d changed his major to exercise science and thrown himself into becoming a better version of himself. When he came home to Brooklyn after four years, his own mother barely recognized him. He’d found work as a personal trainer and he’d started a relatively popular blog about health, exercise, and bettering yourself.

Steve slowed to a stop in front of his childhood home, a home he now lived in alone. His mother had died less than a year ago, cancer. He still missed her every day. He opened the back gate, cut through the yard, and went in through the back door.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t ever coming home,” Wanda said as soon as he stepped into the kitchen.

“You know you don’t live here, right?” Steve muttered.

“I would if you’d let me,” Wanda smirked. She handed Steve a glass of orange juice then she sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee.

“For the millionth time, Wanda, you’re my best friend. That’s it. Nothing more.” He downed the juice and dropped the glass in the sink.

“I know,” she smiled. “I just like to give you a hard time.” She took another drink of her coffee. “You working today?”

Steve worked as a personal trainer at the most popular gym in Brooklyn, while Wanda was a yoga instructor. They’d both started at the same time, the two newbies. Their friendship had grown from there. Of course, it had started with Wanda asking Steve out for drinks, hoping for more. He’d almost felt bad telling her he was gay. Fortunately, she was extremely easygoing, so she’d shrugged it off and decided that they would be best friends instead. Steve had been afraid to argue with her.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ve got four or five appointments today.”

“What are you doing after work? Do you want to go grab dinner?”

“I’ve got plans,” Steve mumbled. “Sorry.”

Wanda’s eyes narrowed. “Are you going to that bar tonight?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he sighed.

Wanda pushed her cup aside and folded her hands on the table. “Steve -”

“Do  _ not _ lecture me, Wanda,” he snarled.

“What exactly are you hoping will happen?” she snapped. “Do you think Barnes is suddenly going to remember he bullied you all the way through high school and apologize? Do you think he even remembers you? Or maybe you think the two of you will hit it off and start dating? I know you had a crush on him in high school, you told me as much, but you yourself said he dated girls in high school. He might not even be gay, Steve. Do you really want to get your heart broken?”

“He broke my heart back in high school,” Steve shrugged, desperately keeping his emotions under control. “Besides, he doesn’t recognize me. He has no idea who I am. I just wanted to see him, for research.”

“Research?” Wanda scoffed.

“I’m writing a post for the blog about bullying and how you can rise above it. Why not visit one of my former tormentors?”

“For what purpose? I mean really, Steve, why? And don’t bullshit me.”

“To see if he’s changed,” Steve snapped. “Maybe I wanted to see if he was still the jerk I remember or if he’s changed at all.”

“And?”

“I don’t know, Wanda. He seems like he has. But, he doesn’t recognize me, so I could be wrong. If he knew who I was -”

“Maybe he does recognize you and he’s just pretending he doesn’t,” Wanda cut him off. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Wanda, if I wanted your advice, I’d ask for it,” Steve muttered. He pushed himself away from the counter. “I’m going to go shower. Lock the door behind yourself when you leave.”

* * *

“You want another soda, Becca?” Bucky asked his younger sister.

“Why can’t I have a glass of wine or something?” she pouted.

“Because you’re only twenty and I don’t want to lose my liquor license,” he retorted. “Coke or water, take your pick.”

“Coke,” she mumbled. She opened her phone, but Bucky snatched it out of her hand.

“Becca, we talked about this,” he sighed. “No social media.”

“I hate this,” she muttered.

“I know you do,” Bucky replied. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Look, I already deleted my Facebook and my Instagram,” she said. “That’s where all the problems came from anyway -”

Bucky shoved Becca’s phone in his pocket. “I’m getting you a new number. Tomorrow. You know what Fury said. You can live without your phone for a day.” He set the soda on the bar in front of his sister. “Nat will be here to take you home soon.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Buck.”

“But you do,” he snapped. “Until they find the guy stalking you and the people behind the posts, you get a babysitter. Nat agreed to help.”

A tear slipped down Becca’s cheek. He hadn’t meant to be harsh with her, but he was worried about her. It killed him that he couldn’t protect her from whoever was tormenting her; from this point forward, he was going to do everything he could to help her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“I know,” she said. “I just want my life to go back to normal.”

He put his hand over hers and squeezed it gently. “It will, I promise.”

“Thanks, Buck, you’re sweet. I’m gonna go wash my face before Nat gets here.” She pushed herself off the stool and headed down the hall.

A couple of minutes after Becca went to the bathroom, the door to the bar opened and Steve stepped inside. He smiled at Bucky and headed for his usual spot at the end of the bar.

Bucky grabbed a glass and got Steve a beer. It wasn’t until he was setting it in front of him that Bucky realized he  _ knew _ what beer Steve drank without asking.

“Um, thanks,” Steve mumbled, picking at the napkin under the glass.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky replied. “So, uh -”

“Oh my god, Steve!”

Steve’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. He didn’t utter a word, just watched as Bucky’s baby sister walked toward them. Apparently, she knew this guy.

“Holy shit, I haven’t seen you since you graduated,” Becca laughed.

“Becca,” Bucky growled.

“You have changed,” she continued, ignoring her brother as she eased onto the stool beside Steve and put her hand on his arm. “What happened to that sick kid that lived around the corner from us?”

“I guess he grew up,” Steve shrugged, not meeting her eyes or Bucky’s.

Something clicked in Bucky’s brain and all of the pieces fell into place. “Wait? You’re...you’re Steve Rogers? That skinny kid that was always sick? That Steve Rogers?”

“Yep, that’s me,” Steve shrugged.

Something else clicked in Bucky’s brain - a picture of Steve on the floor, lip swollen and bleeding, Brock leaning over him, fist raised. A second picture immediately followed the first and this one was worse. A picture of himself, standing at the back of the crowd, laughing along with everyone else as Brock tormented a very skinny Steve. The revelation made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Can you excuse me a minute?” he muttered. It took all of his self-control not to run away, to walk calmly through the door to the kitchen. He leaned against the wall by the door and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m an asshole,” he mumbled to himself. “A huge, giant asshole.”

“Hiya, princess,” Nat chirped, stepping around the corner. “Why are you an asshole this time?”

“I just am,” Bucky sighed. “Becca’s out there.” He pointed over his shoulder at the door.

“Mm-hm,” she mumbled. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Nat, stop prying. I’ll tell you when I’m ready to tell you.”

“Fine,” she huffed. She spun on her heel and shoved open the door, not even flinching when it hit the counter and bounced back.

Bucky closed his eyes and counted to ten, then he exhaled and did it again. He’d always regretted the way he’d treated Steve in high school, and it had all been out of some bizarre need to please Brock, the world’s biggest asshole. Bucky had tried to put all of that behind him, forget about what a colossal jerk he’d been in high school. All the stuff happening with Becca had dredged all that up and now, seeing Steve, well, that was like a punch to the face.

“Bucky, I’m leaving!” Becca yelled.

Time to face the music. He pushed open the door and returned to the bar.

* * *

Steve swallowed past the lump rising in his throat as Bucky returned to the bar. He and Becca had been talking, catching up, for the last five minutes until a petite redhead came out the same door that Bucky had gone through. Becca introduced him, referring to the redhead, Natasha, as her babysitter, then she called Bucky’s name. Steve turned toward the TV and pretended to be interested in the baseball game while he said goodbye to his sister.

Becca stopped next to him and put her hand on his arm. “It was good to see you, Steve. Don’t be a stranger, okay?” She gave him a weary smile before following the redhead, Natasha, out the door.

An awkward silence settled over the bar, even with the growing evening crowd. Steve fiddled with his napkin and stared blankly at the TV. Bucky stood a couple of feet away from him, wiping down the counter, occasionally glancing at Steve out of the corner of his eye. After a few minutes, Bucky cleared his throat and eased closer.

“So,  _ maybe _ we know each other?” he said quietly.

Steve smiled and shrugged. “Busted.”

“Why didn’t you say something, like, oh, I don’t know, ‘Hi Bucky, I’m Steve Rogers’ or ‘Hey, remember me? I was the skinny kid that lived around the corner.’”

“Well, I’m not exactly the person I used to be,” Steve said.

“I can see that,” Bucky chuckled, eyeing Steve up and down. He shook his head, pushed a hand through his hair, and smiled. “Sorry. That was rude.”

“It’s okay,” Steve mumbled, his cheeks burning. He hated that Bucky could still get that kind of rise out of him.

“It wasn’t,” Bucky muttered. “But, hey, I’m not the person I used to be either.” He tossed the rag in the sink behind the bar, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. “How’d you like to get something to eat sometime, catch up? Maybe we could grab lunch or something?” He gestured around the rapidly filling bar. “As much as I’d love to talk now, game night is pretty busy around here and Sam won’t be in for another hour.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Steve nodded. “Catching up, I mean.”

Bucky grabbed a napkin and pen from beneath the counter. He scrawled a number on it and slid it across the bar to Steve. “Call me, later?”

“Sure.” He resisted the urge to snatch up the napkin and clutch it tightly, afraid it would float away. Instead, he picked it up and folded it neatly before putting it in his jacket pocket.

Bucky knocked his knuckles on the bar, his grin widening. “Great, I’ll talk to you later.” He walked back down the bar, greeting a group of patrons that had just come in.

Steve tried to concentrate on the game, but instead, he found himself watching Bucky, his brain going off in a million different directions, wondering what he and Bucky would talk about later. He couldn’t wait to find out.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky go to lunch.

Steve hit the end button and set his phone on the table. He damn hands were shaking like a leaf and he felt like he might throw up. He took a deep breath and picked up his phone. He stared at the napkin on his lap, not that he needed the number, he’d memorized it about twenty seconds after Bucky had handed it to him. 

He glanced at the clock on the microwave. He’d left Bucky’s bar almost two hours ago, during the seventh-inning stretch. Bucky had waved at him as he’d left, making Steve’s heart beat faster. He’d waved back and then he’d thought of nothing else the entire way home.

Now he was sitting at his kitchen table trying to work up the nerve to call Bucky. He felt like an awkward sixteen-year-old all over again. As he sat there staring at his phone, it rang, making him jump. He snatched it off the table and hit the answer button.

“H-hello?”

“Stevie! Whatcha doin’?”

Wanda had been drinking, he could tell just by the sound of her voice. Of course, it was Friday night and if she couldn’t get Steve to go out with her, she’d probably managed to convince her twin brother, Pietro, or maybe Peggy, the co-owner of the gym, to go with her.

“Nothing,” he replied. “What are you doing?”

“Drinking,” she yelled into the phone.

“I gathered that from how loud you’re being.” He couldn’t help but smile; drunk Wanda always made him smile. She was loud and obnoxious and she never failed to make him laugh.

“Come meet us,” Wanda crooned. “We’re at Starlord’s. Peter was asking about you.”

“Not tonight, Wanda,” he replied. “Maybe another night.”

“You’re such a party poop -”

Steve disconnected the call before Wanda could call him any more names. He took a deep breath, dialed Bucky’s number, and hit send.

“Hello?”

“Bucky?” Steve mumbled.

“Yep. Who’s this?”

“It’s...uh...it’s Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“Oh, shit, Steve! Hi! Can you hang on a second?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Bucky must have been moving to another part of the bar because Steve could hear the sounds of the crowd fading away until it was quiet.

“Sorry,” Bucky said. “I could barely hear you out there. Crazy night.”

“No worries,” Steve mumbled. “So...um…”

“You free for lunch tomorrow? There’s this diner down the street that makes great burgers.”

Steve glanced at the calendar he kept on the wall. As luck would have it, he was free for lunch the next day; he had a two-hour block with no clients. He could make it to lunch and back with plenty of time to spare.

“Yeah, I think I can do that,” he replied. “How about 12:30?”

“Perfect,” Bucky said. “How about we meet at the bar and walk over?”

“Sounds great.” 

“Look, I’d love to chat, but we are still slammed with a bar full of happy Yankee fans. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Definitely.”

Bucky said goodbye and disconnected the call. Only then did Steve allow himself to breathe. He really hadn’t been this nervous since high school. If he was that nervous just calling Bucky, how the hell was he going to get through an entire meal?

* * *

“Thanks for watching the bar, Sam. I really do appreciate it.” Bucky pushed his hands through his hair and shifted from foot to foot.

“You nervous, Buck?” Sam asked.

“No, of course not,” Bucky scoffed. “What makes you think I’m nervous?”

“You can’t stand still, you’ve been talking non-stop since I came in, acting like I don’t know how to run this place without you, and your, I don’t know...twitchy,” Sam laughed. “You’re nervous.”

Bucky opened his mouth and snapped it shut again. The thing was, he  _ was _ nervous. It wasn’t just that he hadn’t been on a date in a very long time, but it was also Steve, a guy he’d had a hand in bullying back in high school. He could only hope that Steve was a forgiving kind of guy.

He’d saved Steve’s number as soon as he’d called, adding it to his contacts. Half a dozen times last night he’d taken his phone out, intent on texting him, but then he’d put it away, not quite sure what to say. It was probably just as well; he wanted to have something to talk about at lunch.

“Okay, so I’m nervous,” he said. “I haven’t been on a date in a long time.” He didn’t bother to mention the stuff about bullying; that was between him and Steve.

“What’s it been? Ten, fifteen years?” Sam teased.

“Ha, ha, you’re funny,” Bucky grumbled.

The bell over the door rang, drawing their attention. Steve stepped inside and raised a hand, smiling at Bucky. The sight made Bucky’s heart leap unexpectedly.

“Hey, Steve, I’ll be right there!” He turned back to Sam, eyebrows raised. “You good?”

“Yeah, boss, take all the time you want,” Sam chuckled. “Hell, if you want, take the whole day off.” He wiggled his eyebrows, his grin widening.

“You’re on a roll today, aren’t you?” Bucky muttered. “I’ll see you later.” He swung around and hurried around the end of the bar.

“Ready?” Steve asked. 

“Definitely, I’m starving,” Bucky nodded. He pointed at the door. “After you.”

Once they were outside, Bucky pointed up the street, turning in the direction of the diner. They walked side by side in silence. They were at the diner and seated inside before either of them spoke.

“You’ve really changed,” Bucky said, sipping his water. “The kid I remember was 5’4”, weighed maybe a hundred pounds, and was sick all the time. Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

“College, I guess,” Steve shrugged. “I started working out, joined the swim team, and I decided to study exercise science. I came out of college like this.” He pointed to himself. “What about you? How’d you end up owning a bar?”

“After my parents died, I used the little bit of money they left me to buy the bar -”

“I was sorry to hear about your parents. My mom told me,” Steve said. “It must have been tough.”

“It was,” Bucky nodded. “It was especially hard on Becca. Sometimes she needs her mom and I’m a lousy substitute. Thank God for Nat.”

“Nat?”

“Yeah, the redhead from yesterday? Natasha. She and I were in the army together. She moved to Brooklyn after we got out. She and Becca are good friends. Again, thank God. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’ll even pull some shifts at the bar if I’m shorthanded. Not that she needs to, she makes a small fortune working in real estate.”

“Sounds like she’s a good friend,” Steve murmured.

Bucky wasn’t sure, but he thought that Steve sounded a little jealous. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

“She is,” he nodded. He cleared his throat. “So, what about you? What does Steve Rogers do for a living?”

“I’m a personal trainer,” Steve grinned. “And I run a relatively popular lifestyle blog,  _ Running with Rogers _ .”

“I’ve heard of that blog,” Bucky laughed. “I never put two and two together. That blog isn’t just relatively popular, Steve, it’s really popular. I’ve seen it all over the place. I’m pretty sure Becca follows it.”

“It started as an exercise blog and just kind of morphed from there,” Steve said. “I never expected it to get as big as it did. I started it as a place for my clients to go on their off-days. Next thing I know, I’ve got a thousand followers, then ten thousand, and now it has God-only-knows how many. It’s kind of crazy.”

The waitress arrived with their food, interrupting their conversation. After hearing what Steve did for a living, Bucky almost felt guilty about his double cheeseburger and fries. He grinned sheepishly at Steve and shrugged his shoulders.

“Guess I should read your blog,” he chuckled.

“God, I’d love a cheeseburger,” Steve sighed, pointing at his salad. “Unfortunately, I have to go back to work. I don’t think my clients would appreciate smelling a burger on me when I’ve got them on strict diets.” He took a huge bite of the salad and grinned at Bucky.

After that, things seemed easy. They chatted about what they’d done in the years since they’d last seen each other, their common grief over the loss of their parents, sports, their favorite beer, even books they’d read. Neither of them quite got around to asking about significant others, though.

That was until they were nearly done eating and out of nowhere, Steve said “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Bucky choked on the soda he’d been about to swallow. It took him a second to clear his throat, mumbling ‘wrong pipe’ as he held his napkin to his mouth. Once he could finally talk, he shook his head.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“I thought maybe you and Natasha -”

“I don’t date women,” he said. “I’m gay.”

A grin spread across Steve’s face. “No shit,” he chuckled. “Me, too.”

Bucky had to stop himself from shouting “Yes!” at the top of his lungs. Instead, he took a deep breath and leaned on the table and smiled at Steve.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way, how about we go out on a real date?”

Steve blushed. “So, this wasn’t a real date?”

“No, not really,” Bucky replied. “This was more like two high school buddies catching up.”

“Are you free tonight?” Steve asked.

“I have a feeling I can be,” he laughed.

“Why don’t you come over to my place for dinner? We can watch the game and catch up some more. If that’s okay?”

“I think that sounds great,” Bucky nodded.


End file.
